


Amor Vincit Omnia

by RedEastMovement



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Graphic Description
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-02 01:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEastMovement/pseuds/RedEastMovement
Summary: "I don’t wanna fall in loveLove cuts just like a knifeYou make the knife feel goodI’ll fight you till the end."-Kyle/Jane Child, "Don't Wanna Fall In Love"Mars and Cassidy have had storied lives outside of the Mojave wastes. One was a legendary Frumentarius who defected from Caesar's Legion after decades of undercover work that ultimately questioned his undying allegiance to Caesar himself. The other one was the daughter of a California legend, known for her own skilled accuracy with any gun, love for whiskey, and shrewd business acumen in the caravan game. For various reasons however, they met each other as broken individuals needing each other for help in a shitty security outpost on the Long 15. As they change the Mojave for either bad or worse, can they also help each other become whole again?





	1. Trading Blood for Plasma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet our red-headed duo, Cass and Mars, as they embark on a mission of Mojave justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work since I was a Hetalia weeb and general cringelord on Facebook's RP pages. I hope the lessons I've learned since then really show...if not, then, forgive me and y i k e s.
> 
> Please note: I didn't write this all by myself. I do have a co-author (Jasmine) that helped me to write this via our semi-daily RPs with each other. We've generally split duties up between ourselves. She handles most of Cass's character and dialogue. I handle Mars' character and dialogue. We both share duties in writing the action scenes. 
> 
> For being the first note, it really shouldn't be so long. Oh w e l l.
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
> Follow us on Tumblr!  
> Me (Ry): @themarchingchemist  
> My Co-Author (Jasmine): @constellation-consultant

It was a sight to behold from afar: a beauty and a beast making their way on the crumbling remains of Highway 95, towards the Crimson Caravan headquarters in the Mojave Wasteland. Vagabonds that happened to cross the duo's path would be inclined, however, to report that between the two, it was the beauty that struck greater fear into their hearts than the beast she walked with. Her eyes shot like daggers at those who passed them by, daring them with her azure gaze. The languid stride in her step and sway of her hips gave her an air of, "Fuck you, I'm about to kick some ass, just try to fucking stop me." Plus, having the Courier beside her in that bulky, yet impenetrable walking fortress made her feel a little bit more like a badass. No, a lot bit more. To these bystanders, all it took was the wrong look for her to turn her attention to them, and for that fire to claim them as victims. What they didn't know was that the fire raging inside Cass was reserved for two women and the companies they had attempted to expand by burning everything Cass had built with her own blood, sweat, and tears.

Before she knew it, their they were, standing before the towering, rusted gates of the Crimson Caravan headquarters. Cass raised her hand, signaling him to stop for a moment. As she began to speak, she pulled her trusty Caravan Shotgun from its holster on her back, checking it for any faults before loading it up with 20 gauge shells.

"Before we do this, I want you to know that I don't expect you to help me kill this bitch. I'm the one with a grudge to settle, not you. I don't want to get you caught up in something you'll end up regretting."

Mars nodded and turned on the microphone to his helmet, lest his voice to be smothered and dulled by the thick armor.

“Thank you for your consideration. Allow me give you a gift for allowing me to come along in your quest. You've helped me get back closer to the Strip, and back to that bastard who shot me in Goodsprings.”

The bulky shield that protected his shoulders and the back of his neck served as a good storage space for his “present.” He had looted it off a Viper gang member on his way to the Crimson Caravan for the first time, when Cass had initially sent him the first time they had met in the Mojave Outpost for caravan work. Since he wasn't exactly a connoisseur of buckshot, he had thought the sawed-off would be more befitting for Cass. Mars made sure there were two shells already preloaded into the weapon before he flipped it in a way such that the butt of the weapon was presented first to Cass. Common courtesy, just in case of one of his bony fingers somehow pulled the trigger on accident. He was sure his Enclave power armor could handle buckshot easily anyway.

“Besides, this bitch wanted to ensure that my relationships with the Gun Runners would be tarnished after I refused to help her sabotage their operations. She deserves our combined wrath.”

Cass blinked at the rifle butt sitting before her, taking it from him with a toothy grin. The gun was a beauty, looking as though it was almost untouched by the doom of the world around them.

"You know, Mars... thank you. It means a lot to me that you're helping me do this. Honestly, I'm kinda glad that I'm doing it with you," she said, smiling up at the Enclave-styled helmet masking his face.

It made her slightly more curious to see what sat below the mask, given that he rarely took it off where she could see. But that's not something to worry about at the moment. She had a bitch to kill.

"After this is over, if I'm still alive, I owe you a drink," the smirk on her face turned into a sour look as she turned to face the massive doors before her. Cass took in a deep breath before stepping forward to open the gate.

"Let's save promises after we deal with these bitches of yours." Mars retorted.

Once inside the Crimson Caravans' compound, Mars reached behind him to begin warming up his own weapon, a prototype plasma rifle known as the Q35 matter modulator, looted from REPCONN HQ with her yesterday evening. Despite her uneasiness in the location due to the many Sentry Bots and Mister Gutsys still patrolling the area, Mars insisted on stopping by to confirm rumors of the weapon's location and collect it for himself. It took mere seconds before the rifle became awash with the glow with of green plasma superheated at around 28,000 Celsius.

The compound itself was as bustling as ever. Blake was busy cleaning and maintaining his many wares he would later sell on another expedition out into the wastes. Herders were busy tending to the brahmin, both to be used as pack animals and sold as meat sources for the hungry soldiers at NCR's Camp McCarran. Mars looked at his Pip-Boy, checking the time.

_1300, September 23, 2281_

He then looked around at the compound, and found the main HQ building, pointing it out for Cass’ sake.

 "Alice should be inside of her office at this time. Be warned, she keeps a team of mercenaries in the building at all times. They are ex-NCR soldiers frustrated with the lack of caps and action from McCarran. Luckily for us, Alice is cheaper than their former paymasters. All they have are 10 mm pistols and shitty lightweight metal armor."

With a soft growl, she grinned up at him, that murderous glint in her eye staring straight into his helmet’s eye ports.

"Perfect. Let's do this."

Rather than kicking in the door like she normally would, with her gun drawn and a battle cry belting out into the room she was invading, Cass decided to have some fun with Alice first. The rickety door creaked open, announcing the arrival of two new visitors in the office space. And yet, Alice McLafferty sat unaware of her new visitors’ entrance, working through order after order with that characteristic smirk on her pointed, infuriating face.

"Aliceeeee," Cass sang out in a mock southern accent, sauntering her way up to the woman's desk. Her gun was drawn, loosely held in her left hand.

Once Alice put her mind to something, it was very easy for her to develop tunnel vision, blocking anything and everything around her. She heard her name being called, but she ignored it, thinking that it was one of her hired mercenaries whining about about another inconvenience plaguing the compound.

Compared to other compounds in the NCR, the Mojave compound was an utter piece of shit. The latrines were unaired and the doors had no locks to keep them private. The food was passable at best. The heat was unceasing. Alice's dogs were used to better places, because she often only went to the best compounds of the company to perform routine checks to make sure that the drivers, herders, and merchants were obeying the directives of the upper echelons of the company, and didn't even think of screwing them out of a single bottle cap. Many accused rogue employees tended to "disappear" the night after Alice made her visits, regardless of their actual crime or innocence in the matter.

Cass scowled at the woman before her, slamming the barrel of her shotgun onto the top of her terminal, sending a crack straight down the middle of the clouded glass.

"You better listen to me when I say your name, bitch."

Alice sputtered in disbelief, her gaze lifting to stare Cass down.

"Ah, Rose of Sharon Cassidy. How... wonderful to see you. Are you here regarding the deal I proposed for your caravans?" She asked, a smug smirk settling on her thin lips.

Cass wanted to blow her brains out then and there, but reluctantly held back. "Unfortunately, no. But, with the help of my friend here," she gestured to Mars, causing Alice to pale, "I figured out the shady shit you've been pulling. Now, I'm going to give you two options. Either you turn yourself in to the NCR, or..." she paused to bring the barrel of her gun up, pressing it into Alice's forehead, "I blow your fucking brains out and ruin that pretty little suit of yours. So what'll it be?"

Mars watched uneasily as Cass toyed with Alice. If he had his way, he would have simply walked into the office and shot everyone in sight with his rifle. After dealing with two 9mm bullets planted straight into his head via Benny, he was no longer a man who wanted to "talk things out," which had been his usual route of dealing with the people of the wastes as a courier. He was a silver-tongued son of a bitch, usually able to weasel himself in and out of both beneficial and harmful situations. After his failed assassination, Mars was eager to words with superior gun handling. He was taught by two master gunwomen after months of recuperating with Sunny Smiles back at Goodsprings, and also learning a trick or two from Cass herself.

He wasn't even considering McLafferty to be a threat. Considering Cass refused her own set of power armor (to be fair, it was NCR's poor excuse of salvage), what he usually disregarded as harmless to himself and his armor could potentially do a number on his companion. Surprisingly, no mercenary had come to investigate the loud commotion Cass was causing in the office.

It happened in a quick succession: First, Alice suddenly used her chair to wheel herself back and away from Cass' gun barrel. He then saw her right hand reaching into her skirt...and come out with a loaded laser pistol, quickly aiming at Cass' forehead. Screaming bloody hell, her trigger finger contracted, pulling the pistol's trigger back.......but before the pistol could calibrate itself to the correct frequency needed to create a laser shot, it and the hand holding it, was completely engulfed in a toroid of green plasma, which fell onto her exposed thighs, causing instant 3-4 degree burns. If her attempt at a battle didn't register with the mercenaries down the hall in their quarters, the agonized screams of their crippled boss certainly did the trick.

Cass jumped back, not only in shock but also to move out of the way of a stray glob of plasma that had flown from Alice's now mangled hand. "Ah, fuck me!" Cass called out before lifting her shotgun and blowing Alice face into the wall in a spray of blood and brain tissues. A single drop splattered across her sun kissed skin, and as her finger dipped into it to wipe it away, the door catapulted off its hinges and onto the cabin floor, poorly armed mercs flooding into the dimly lit room.

"Jesus Christ, she's fucking dead! You'll pay for this you little bi--" whether he was the head of their guard or just some mouth bastard, Cass already had her Cowboy Repeater out and firing, littering them with a hail of bullet. As more bullets whizzed past the pair, a spray of blood erupted from Cass's side, causing her to duck behind Mars and his looming Power Armor.

"Fuck, Mars, we gotta get out of here and quick."

Mars was going to egg her on to stay and enjoy the decent gunfight they had gotten themselves into, when an armor-piercing 5.56 mm round somehow was able to penetrate enough into the armor encasing his left arm, the impact resulting in a massive welt on his forearm. It was nothing to him, but concerned him enough to heed Cass and begin a method to quickly neutralize their enemies. Leaning forward so that Cass would be better shielded behind him, he ran into the gunfire of the mercenaries and quickly shot at any body part that they couldn't get to cover quickly enough.

McLafferty was somewhat lucky that his shot was aimed for her gun, and not her actual hand. While lasers burn, plasma melts. A hit to the hand might dissolve an entire man's arm, while a hit to the torso causes irreversible organ damage to all organs in the abdominal cavity. Gunfire quickly gave way to howling and screaming as Mars turned each merc into piles of green, bloody slop onto the office floor.

One man, Don Hostetler, deserved special attention. Since Mars found out the Benny had received the help of the Khans in his attempted assassination while assisting the NCR at Boulder, he ruled that any and all Khans he uncovered would get his wrath in excess. Don had kept his affiliation with the Khans exceptional well until Mars had accidentally traipsed into Don's home when he was away thinking it was another abandoned place to set up camp for the night. Nobody, unless you were a Fiend or Khan, could be hiding over 1000 canisters of jet behind the fridge for "no good reason."

Mars shot off the well-groomed Khan in the knees first, and allowed the poor bastard to try to crawl away from him before the blood loss took away his strength. Pressing his armored foot atop the Khan's rump, Mars took his left hand and yanked the head back of the poor sod; his right hand took the plasma rifle and shoved the piping-hot barrel into Don's throat, causing him to both gag and writhe helplessly in agony. A soft whine came from the rifle before Don Hostetler became a beautiful fountain of hot, steaming chunks of gore and plasma.

Cass averted her gaze from the horrific sight before her, bile raising in her throat. She could handle as much liquor as the next sad sob, but that thought of having a stream of plasma jettisoned down the throat... it sent chills down her spine. But the aching in her side pushed her to be a bit more ballsy, regardless of what she just witnessed in front of her.

"Fucking Christ Mars, that's enough!" She grabbed onto the hand holding the gun down the poor mans gullet, yanking it away as he disintegrated into a glob of slop.

"I swear to God, if I die because of your stupid fucking grudge, I will haunt the ever-loving fuck out of yo---" she coughed harshly, spitting blood onto the cracked wooden flooring.

"Ah, fuck me. You can stay and be on your power trip all you want, but I'm getting the FUCK out of here before I bleed to death." Cass growled out before shuffling towards the doors they came in, her clothes heavy with blood and sweat.

She hadn't meant to be so harsh with him, but this was getting to be fucking ridiculous. Yeah, he was shot in the head and had a grudge, but she was sick and tired of him goring anyone even slightly related to those who hurt him.

Mars was broken from his savage reverie from Cass’ attempt to leave him by herself in his wounded state. If it had been Craig Boone or Raul with him, they wouldn't had even given a single thought of what he had done to Don. Then again, it really wasn't a case of women being more squeamish than men here: Cass had gotten hit with a bullet and was suffering from a potentially fatal wound, if he had allowed himself to carry on his celebration in the death of another Khan. He didn't say a word as he cooled down his rifle and walked back to Cass from Don the Blood Puddle.

Cass was going to berate him again, but suddenly went limp, presumably from the blood loss. Mars scooped her up in his arms before she hit the floor and proceeded out the door of the office building. His goal now was to make it to the gates and out of the compound before other employees of the Crimson Caravan discover their masterpieces inside.

Though the office had not been necessarily built to be soundproof, the mooing of Brahmin, constant chatter between drivers, and the other clamor of life inside the Crimson Caravan compound distracted many who might have thought who heard screaming and the sound of gunfire in their boss' office building. Some actually joked that the supposed gun of gunfire ought to have been some disgruntled driver finally capping that mean bitch once and for all. They didn't know that their jokes were realized.

Mars had been the talk of the compound when he first made his entrance in his Enclave armor, since many had not seen such glorious military technology in their lives. Some were blessed enough that their parents were directly or indirectly involved in the story of the Enclave's final straw in the Mojave at the hands of the Chosen One and Cass' own father. Now they barely paid attention to him since he'd been in and out of the compound so damn much either trading with Blake, setting up dates with Janet for some Boomer boy, or getting requested by Alice to do work even her most battle-crazed mercenaries didn't want to deal with (like her proposed plan to commit corporate espionage against the Gun Runners).

The guards of the gate did give Mars and Cass a funny look, but investigating wasn't in their job description and they certainly wouldn't get overtime pay for doing so either. Consequently, they let the two pass without any further issue.

Cass, rather than cursing and telling him to put her down when she finally came to, pressed a shaky hand to her side, trying and failing to stop the bleeding. "Mars... I'm sorry for being a bitch earlier," she finally croaked as they neared the outskirts of Freeside. The Kings members standing watch at the front gates watched as he carried her inside, through the various districts of the outer ring of the strip, towards the Old Mormon Fort, towards Julie Farkas and her Followers of the Apocalypse.

 


	2. Confessions of the Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mars successfully gets Cass into the hands of Dr. Farkas. Impatient and also fearing for her safety around energy weapons, Mars instead lists Arcade Gannon's help to eliminate the Van Graffs for Cass' sake. Meanwhile, under a pain and Med-X filled haze, Cass reveals some intimate secrets to Dr. Farkas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transitional paragraph into Chapter 3 added. (8/2/17) 
> 
> Follow us on Tumblr!  
> Me (Ry): @themarchingchemist  
> My Co-Author (Jasmine): @constellation-consultant

Freeside always felt tense to Cass. It was like everyone and their mother was watching them, waiting for her and the hulk of a companion to make one wrong move, one small mistake. Many dead bodies ended up along the streets of the ghetto simply because some poor sod smiled at a thug funny, or happened to see something that they didn’t mean to see down an alleyway. Dog ate dog in Freeside, and it was accepted as a normal part of life there by the local population.

The guards stationed near the Old Mormon Fort’s gate recognized the man approaching them immediately, and called for their counterparts inside to let Mars and Cass inside the compound. As Mars waited for the gates to open, he shifted the way he was carrying his companion gently, trying not to jar her more than she had already been.

"I'm gonna need something stronger than liquor to deal with this pain," she grinned up at him, a grimace barely making her lips twitch as the muscles in her side spasmed around the tiny piece of metal currently lodged in her side.

"I figured, Cass. Dandy Boy Apples can't keep you from the doctors any longer.”

With that statement, the gate finally began to creak and spread apart to create a wide enough opening for Mars and Cass to squeeze through.

The only legitimate doctors Mars knew about in Freeside were Julie Farkas and Arcade Gannon along with the rest of their organization, the Followers of the Apocalypse. The Garretts’ form of “medicine” was temporary and addictive with their chems and liquor. Mars knew Cass would’ve lived to see another day if he had bought the Garretts’ entire liquor stock, but even a drink can’t extract a bullet or stop the bleeding of the Whiskey Rose. Mick and Ralph’s occasionally sold the fleeting Stimpak or Doctor’s Bag, but Mars did not want to even take a chance trying to haggle with the shrewd traders while Cass bled to death in his arms.

Once inside, Mars quickly called for Julie and Arcade to come to Cass’ aid. Though they were busy treating their own patients (specifically, those who loved the Garretts’ “medicine” too much) Mars had enough of a positive reputation with the Followers of the Apocalypse that he could leverage immediate treatment for his companion without having to resort to threatening them with force like the Kings or NCR would often do.

Compared to his own surgery, Julie's procedure for Cass took only a couple of hours. Compared to Julie’s abilities, Doc Mitchell had both the growing limitations of old age and infrequent practice of his medical knowledge as disadvantages working against him. It wasn’t every day that Doc got a patient, particularly a patient shot in the head, to treat back at Goodsprings. Julie constantly had to deal with people being shot either because they had accrued too high of a debt to one of the local drug dealers, looked at Jean-Baptiste Cutting the wrong way, or approached the Strip’s gate close enough to trigger the Securitrons’ automated security reponses.

Apart from the massive welt on his left forearm, Mars was relatively healthy. Yes, he also had to talk to Julie in order to help him repress his growing Psycho addiction again, but that wasn’t a big deal. After all, Freeside’s citizens have come in with worse debts to chems begging for Julie’s help…all to simply relapse as soon as they leave the Old Mormon Fort, thus repeating the cycle in two weeks. This is the reason why the inside of the Fort seemed to keep piling up ever time Mars would pay them a visit: relapsing addicts never really “leave” the Fort, while even more first-time addicts come through the fort to begin the same cycle the relapsing addicts were currently trapped in.

While Julie was extracting the bullet from Cass’ side, Mars sat for a while with Jacob Hoff, a recovering addict and the brainchild of the many detoxes the Followers used to treat Freeside’s chem epidemic. Hoff self-experimented on the chems he was trying to defeat to see if he could better understand their withdrawal symptoms and refine his detoxes’ potency and minimize their side effects. Unfortunately, all it took was a handful of trial runs before Hoff found himself completely at their mercy. It wasn’t until Mars convinced him to shape up and trust his own detoxes did he admit his own faults. He promptly returned to the Followers for further assistance with his own addictions and further research of detoxes. Hoff’s current interest was the use of Cazadore venom, particularly its painful symptoms, to prevent addicts from quickly relapsing into their old habits.

“Imagine every time you tried to inhale a puff of jet or shoot up another dose of Hydra after you start a detox, your body is hit with the same pain Cazadore venom would put it through. Certainly would prevent a lot of us from ever picking up chems again, wouldn’t you say so?”

“I doubt you would self-experiment on yourself this time with this, Jacob.”

“Certainly not. I’d have to have at least 20 does of antivenom ready before I can even feel a sliver of certainty that I won’t die in the process.”

It was then that Arcade passed by Jacob’s tent, and Mars was reminded of another task that he had to do. Bidding farewell to Jacob, he rushed out to chase down the Enclave remnant.

“Arcade, wait!”

Arcade turned around, slightly surprised.

“Oh. Mars. What do you want?”

Mars took a second to catch his breath.

“Are you particularly busy? I know you might still be busy with your own duties here but…I do have a proposition to make.”

Arcade’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he motioned to push his glasses back.

“And what would that be?”

“I…. Hah, I promised Cass that I would exterminate the Van Graffs.”

Arcade’s eyes bulged.

“You WHAT-“

Mars looked down, slightly sheepish, though his own helmet prevented the facial expression from being properly conveyed.

“Yes, I know, they have the largest armory of energy weapons next to the Brotherhood or your own little outfit-“

He was cut off again by Arcade’s exasperation.

“Are you insane? You personally know what lasers, let alone plasma, do to targets-“

“Arcade, calm down! That’s why I’m asking you personally for this matter! You’re the only other plasma expert I know that’s not holed up in either of those bunkers!”

Arcade rolled his eyes, and shook his head in disbelief. Mars was a crazy son of a bitch, and through their own travels together, encountered situations that they never thought they would make it through with their skin intact. For instance, acquiring Mars’ own set Enclave armor was a journey that took them east of the Cliffside Prospector Camp only known in myth and legend as the infamous Deathclaw Promontory. It was a four day stake out, as they patiently battled through the equivalent of three deathclaw nests, including one Alpha and one Mother deathclaw that took over 12 hours to take down each. Arcade, though a scientist at heart, proved his mettle on that excursion, having put out several Baby Deathclaws that had gotten close when Mars had gotten caught up with some of their bigger counterparts in the third day of the battle. That excursion proved to be somewhat pointless: upon reassembling the rest of the Enclave Remnants, Daisy Whitman, the pilot of the Remnants’ sole Vertibird, donated her entire armor set to Mars as a token of appreciation. The ‘spare’ armor set now lay in storage inside the Remnants’ Bunker, ready to be either used or scavenged for parts to maintain the current suit that Mars wore.

By the time he looked up again, Mars had already made his way to the gate, and was waiting for it to open again, this time to let himself back outside. Alone.

 _“Fucking hell, Mars. You just can’t wait to die._ ” Arcade sprinted to Mars’ location, weaving in and out of the various people that had gotten in the way, including Julie. The leader of the Followers needed a new cotton pad to replace the one taped up to Cass’ side, now soaked in more of her blood. By the time Julie had registered the fact that it was Arcade that sped by her, she called out to him.

“Arcade…what’s…what’s the rush?”

Arcade turned back…and barely avoided a guard that was carrying a crate of Sunset Sarsaparilla bottles to a tent.

“Mars!....The Van Graffs!” was all he could huff out, before turning back to finally catch up to the heavily armored man.

Mars was too busy thinking about how the assault on the Van Graffs would proceed, whether it be through sheer bravado and force, or through more stealthy avenues. It wasn’t until Arcade attempted to hit his helmet with a rock did he finally took notice of his friend that had arrived next to him.

“Oh…. Arcade. Changed your mind? You took too long to decide.”

Arcade dropped the rock he was trying to hit him with and gasped for another lungful of air, before continuing to speak.

“I just don’t…want…. the man responsible for putting my…family back together….dying to irradiated thugs who think they can REALLY handle a plasma weapon.”

A chuckle escaped Mars’ helmet, drowned out again by the creaking of the gates opening to let himself and his companion through.

* * *

 

The full moon hung above Freeside that night, illuminating places not already showered in neon light with its own beautiful glow. Outside of the Silver Rush, the solitary guard that stripped potential customers of their personal belongings prior to entering the establishment fought to keep himself awake. While walking around in his elliptical pathway, he would randomly become startled by invisible threats. In multiple instances, the guard would ready his rifle and fire multiple shots into the air, in an attempt to scare these threats off.

“Fuck you! Show yourself dammit!”

Arcade was observing all of this through a pair of binoculars Mars had given him. He sunk back down in their modest pile of rubble, obviously annoyed.

“A jet addict gets access to better rifles than all of our guards in the entire Mojave. Unbelievable.”

Mars shrugged and then readied his own plasma rifle, ensuring that its MF Cell had enough charge at least for what he was about to do next. Once ready, he peeked his head above ever so slightly, just enough to see the guard still pacing about. When he felt confident enough that he could plant a bolt of plasma in his body in one shot, Mars shifted his position so that he was now looking through the iron sights of his plasma rifle, his right index finger ever so ready to pull the trigger.

The guard had reached the extreme leftmost point of his path and began to turn back to make a path to the rightmost point. While turning, he noticed a faint green glow in the distance. It wasn’t a neon sign – the only ones still active were either being used by the Van Graffs or the Atomic Wrangler across the street. What was it?

Mars had noticed that the guard had stopped in his sights….and was trying to find him through the rubble. It took a second before he realized that the guard was attracted by the glow of plasma in the rifle’s barrel.

_Shit! No time to spare…._

One swift motion of his fingers and Mars’ rifle spat out a glowing toroid of plasma down the street, towards the guard.

The guard, still trying to find the source of the neon light suddenly saw it pulse brightly, and the color seemed to glow brighter and brighter, as if it was coming closer to him.

“What the fu-“was all the guard could muster before the plasma bolt hit him. His right arm and leg were torn off by the blast, and the rest of his body melted from the heat of the plasma into a small pile of red and green goo. His laser rifle was tossed far from his former body, landing near a pile of rubble beside the Silver Rush. Had the ammunition of the tossed rifle been hit directly by the plasma bolt, it would have been a more explosive death for the guard.

Satisfied by his marksmanship, Mars nudged Arcade, who was watching him the entire time, and motioned for him that it was time to launch their assault against the Van Graffs.

* * *

 

As Julie continued to monitor Cass’ post-surgery condition throughout the night, she found that the Med-X that was used for the surgery had begun to wear off, causing Cass to spout things that were on her mind as she lay there on the gurney in a casual manner. Julie knew that this was not normal, considering she often filtered her thoughts through thick screens of sarcasm and witty banter.

Cass moaned in pain as Julie came back with a crate to sit on, since her legs had gotten sore from standing.

"Fuck me...Farkas….am I….too brash?"

Julie whipped her head around to look at Cass, her eyes incredulous at her question.

"I…feel like you're asking me a trick question here... what's brought this on? Don't tell me you're going soft!"

Cass scoffed at Julie, shaking her head.

 "I'm serious here! I just…I feel like... like I'm wasting my life away. I could die before the sun rises tomorrow….and never get to really slow down and enjoy what little life I have left.”

Her face twisted in pain, as her brain began to accept the messages of pain from her side again, after being numbed by the effects of Med-X during the surgery. Once the messages faded away, Cass began to speak again.

I…..Fuck, I don't know, maybe it's just the damn Med-X talking. I just…..I just…feel like I shouldn't have killed Alice so quickly. I…I should've talked to her, o…or something--"

Cass took a deep breath and unleashed a hacking cough. Consequently, this triggered a massive spasm in her abdomen that consumed her entire being. She gripped onto Julie's arm, her vision swimming.

“F…. Fuck this!”

It took a minute or two of deep breathing before she could speak again, her voice steady but hoarse.

"Julie…. Why…. Why the fuck am I worrying so damn much?"

Julie didn’t respond to Cass’ rhetorical question.

Cass’ pendant around her neck suddenly felt like a ton of bricks, the cold metal sticking to her skin as she slowly shifted up in her cot.

"Julie, I've lost too many people I loved to this God-forsaken wasteland. I can't let _him_ go along with them..."

It took only a quick second for Julie to realize who Cass was referring to with her last statement, and it surprised her greatly. Cass was a woman with a very strong will, and she had to have that will, in order to make a name for herself in the Mojave as a caravaneer that took absolutely no shit and was prepared to give anybody hell that dared to wrong her and her business. Since Julie had met Mars, she had deduced that he was, in many respects, like Cass in many ways. For instance, whatever Mars willed, it became reality, regardless of the cost to his own well-being and safety. He too was an avid fan of whiskey, and possessed a fiery tongue, rare for anyone who was ever associated with Caesar’s Legion in their lifetime.  She...never would have imagined that anything romantic could be brewing between them; why would she? It would be like watching two deathclaws…. well, that would be an incorrect analogy. Deathclaws _did_ have their own familial packs. And that thought alone of Cass and Mars having their own family….it was enough for Julie to turn away, to hide a smirk that had began to appear on her fact. The last thing she needed was Cass to get upset right now.

Cass hadn’t noticed that Julie had turned away from her. She was too deep in her current emotional outpouring.

"I already lost my daddy... I-I can't lose _him_ too..."

Tears had begun to openly stream down her face. For only the third time in her life, Cass openly wept her frustrations out.

"I can’t let those fucking Legion cunts take _him_ from me too, dammit!"

Her face continued to twist in agony and Julie felt certain at that moment that Cass needed another Med-X injection to ease her pain.

Julie left her to go and grab three things: an saline bag, an IV line, and the Med-X itself. Upon her return, she soothed Cass down while preparing to stick her with the IV line.

“Cass…. listen, Arcade’s with him right now. He’s safe in Freeside. If Arcade falls, then I’ll personally make sure that Mars is safe, okay? Hush now…. it’ll be okay.”

While one hand was busy wiping her tears and caressing her face, the other hand was placed on her left arm. Its fingers were gently probing for the biggest vein near the crook of her elbow, and once it was found, Julie slipped in the IV line and introduced a Med-X dosage through an injection port on the line.

Sleep now, Cass; you're in good hands." Julie returned a soft, cool hand onto the redhead's forehead, keeping it placed there until her patient finally accepted the gentle yoke of sleep.

* * *

 

Arcade and Mars took great care in inspecting all the weaponry and ammunition that they had amassed in the center of the main room of the establishment. Each man had their own distinct pile of weapons and ammunition they were taking responsibility of, to save time.

Around them lay either charred piles of ash, or piles of steaming plasma – formerly the entirety of the Van Graff’s outfit in the Mojave wasteland. While Mars had wanted to separate the siblings and cause Gloria and Jean to suffer like Alice McLafferty and Don Hostetler had, he remembered Cass’ disgust at seeing him take Don’s execution to the extreme and decided that they would be spared the extra brutality he wanted to so badly inflict. Arcade was genuinely surprised by this small token of mercy. The Mars he had grown accustomed to was a good man, albeit very unforgiving and unmerciful to his enemies.

There was no talk between the two men, only the music and occasional commentary by Mr. New Vegas in Mars’ Pip-Boy 3000. Eventually however, especially after the 5th time Johnny Guitar began to play, Mars turned off the radio and tried to strike up a conversation.

"How's Orion? Still being a prick?" Mars asked as he was using a rag to polish a plasma caster he had found tucked away in the back near a safe filled with its relevant ammunition.

"To be fair, he's begrudgingly started to accept the mission you presented upon them as one last shot of glory. Again, I'm glad you didn't let him go. Without him, we wouldn't be able to be more daring in this upcoming battle." Arcade had found a Laser RCW and a recycler modification. With a few quick steps, he installed the recycler onto the weapon, which saved 25% of the shots that the energy SMG spat out.

"But anyway, how are things with you and your girlfriend, Mars?"

Mars shot a look at his companion, but the fact that he was still wearing the helmet didn't really convey the piercing gaze he wanted.

"For the last time, Cass isn't my lover. She's just someone I wanted to help get over her bullshit at the Mojave Outpost."

" _ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt,"_ Arcade muttered under his breath, loading ammunition into the RCW.

"Arcade, what are you saying now?"

"Oh. It’s a quote from Seneca. 'The fates lead the willing and drag the unwilling.' The fact is that you were anxious to get this job done. If you had done this out of your own volition, you would have been more methodical, more patient, and….I hate to say it, but less merciful. You’re…. you’re getting something from Cass in exchange for all these troubles, I’m assuming?”

Mars put aside the plasma caster and began to work on repairing a unique Gatling laser, which bore the name (at least, its what it says on the nameplate) 'Sprtel-Wood 9700.' It was in relatively poor condition and required considerable repair. For Mars, however, he was an experienced jury-rigger, and found most parts on the weapon could be repaired with the common laser rifles they had found stacked on shelves in front of the casino.

"If you're implying that Cass is letting me screw her in exchange for helping her get over the companies that fucked her business over, you're dead wrong."

* * *

 

Med-X tended to last around 4-5 hours, and Julie tried her best not to continuously cling to Cass’ side during the duration of the anesthesia when many other patients needed to be tended to in the Old Mormon Fort. Yet, the caravaneer was not like the many patients in the Fort that simply needed another dose of Fixer or some minor wound patching. It wasn’t every day that one of her most reserved patients (under the influence of pain and Med-X, admittedly) suddenly began to break down emotionally in front of her.

It usually took people until the threat of imminent death to undergo sudden, profound changes to their behavior and worldview. The blood loss was severe enough to warrant that kind of change by the time Mars brought her to the Fort, so that made a bit of sense. Yet…. this was the _Rose of Sharon Cassidy_ that suddenly blew up about how she desperately didn’t want to see her companion get harmed. A companion that she barely even knew longer than half a year.

As the hour came for Julie to check on Cass, she found herself thinking more and more about what she would talk to her about once Cass was truly lucid. She was of course, expecting Cass to be encased again in her usual mannerisms, and that their conversation wouldn’t get too far. Yet, Julie was also hoping to really connect and understand what was on Cass’ mind.

Leaving Jacob Hoff’s tent with another dose of Med-X and fresh gauze, Julie looked up to observe the Mojave sky as the transition from night to dawn was just beginning to occur. Soon the dark, cool, star-lit sky would soon be replaced once more by the bright, unforgiving heat of the Mojave sun. The two men had been gone the entire night, since she found out that from the guards that they had left the Fort at the beginning of twilight.

Upon entering her patient’s tent, Julie first turned on a floodlight, aiming it into the canvas so that the beam would not directly hit Cass’ eyes. Julie then began Cass’ vital signs check. Her pulse was normal, though felt weak. Her blood pressure was also beginning to look normal, but still on the low side.

Julie began to start voicing her own concerns for Cass out loud, almost to try and rehearse the way she would confront her about her feelings for Mars.

“Cass…. look, don’t deny what you were rambling off the first time you woke up from your surgery. You…. you just need to say what you need to say to Mars. He…He’ll understand.”

"I can't tell him."

Julie jumped at the voice beside her, damn near falling onto the ground with a shriek. "Cass, you gotta warn me when you're awake! You scared the piss out me!"

Cass chuckled dryly, struggling to sit up.

“Sorry Farkas, I just overheard you. I'm not gonna tell him how I feel, you know that, right?"

"Why not? I'm sure if you were honest with him, he'd appreciate it more than you letting it brew between the two if you..."

Cass shook her head, "what we have now... it's easy. We don't have to worry about feelings. I can't let him know that I'm... I'm vulnerable."

* * *

 

"The fact that you immediately went to thinking of screwing Cass says a lot about your thoughts right now, Mars," Arcade chuckled. He had finished loading the RCW with its ammunition, and was now moving on to inspect a crate of pulse grenades.

"I was just implying that you'd be expecting Cass to pay you a great deal in caps. After all, isn't she the owner of her own outfit?"

_Way to fucking go, Mars._

Mars…. was silent as he tried to formulate his response. Meanwhile, his pale face slowly began to fill with shades of embarrassment.

"....I mean...well.... the reason we had to kill Alice McLafferty and the Van Graffs was because of their collusion between them to eliminate Cassidy Caravans altogether from the Moja..."

Mars trailed off, falling silent, as he focused on tightening a screw on the Gatling laser. Arcade was a smart son of a bitch, and though he himself was a pretty smooth talker with a brain to match, Arcade got the best of him on occasion.

Life as a courier didn't really lend itself to a lot of sexual action. Sure, he could use his hard-earned caps to buy himself a loose woman for the night, but he wasn't the type to use his own resources for temporary pleasures. His former upbringing as a Legion child also played a major factor in his sexual behavior. Legion men could keep a harem for themselves with the women they enslaved in battle, but even then, the women they kept were not permitted to lay with another man lest they wanted their genitalia mutilated beyond any further usage. Disease was a harsh reality that Legion constantly had to face because of Caesar's rejection of modern medicine for more homeopathic remedies, and even something as simple as measles had a habit of wiping out entire contubernia, or squads. STDs spread by whores was simply something that could be avoided altogether with strict management of who men could lay with.

Homosexuality was an accepted alternative to keeping female concubines in the Legion. This was due to the fact that Legionaries can be stationed anywhere at any time, including in locations located far from civilization that were still vital for Caesar and his leaders. With nobody else but their fellow men at arms beside them, it was common for relationships, no matter how brief, to develop between them. Though Mars absolutely abhors the memory of it now, he used to have a close relationship with an up-and-coming Frumentarius by the name of Vulpes Inculta when he was stationed in Utah for a time. What good will each man had for one another is completely gone thanks to Mars' status as " _in damnatio memoriae_ " by the Legion, and Vulpes' incessant attempts to assassinate him as a direct result of that status.

Mars had never lain with a woman before, let alone develop genuine feelings of romance for one. He respected Cass for her toughness, her ability to give back any shit the wasteland threw at her with interest, and her ability to take down a drink like any warrior he had ever encountered. Cass was not a woman he'd seen that would develop feelings for himself either, considering her outlook on the Mojave. During a conversation, he had sarcastically tried to state that Cass was flirting with him. She quickly responded with an honest rejection.

_I know your type. You always say the right words and constantly leave a trail of broken hearts all over this forsaken wasteland. Guess what? You best respect that nothing will ever happen between us, less you want buckshot all over your fucking crotch._

Arcade took Mars' weak defense as a confirmation of his attraction to Cass.

“Don’t try to defend it, Mars. If it makes you feel better, even Venus could tame the mighty god of war. Perhaps Cass is…your Venus?”

Mars shook his head, the contact between the helmet and the rest of his armor causing a scratching sound as he did so.

"Arcade. Please. She's not interested in me. End of story."

Gannon wasn’t buying it.

"If you truly say so, my friend.”

The two men were silent for the rest of their time at the Silver Rush, and returned to the Old Mormon Fort with the most important of their loot by noon. Mars parted with three hundred of his hard-earned caps to have a small team of Kings move the rest of the loot to the fort instead of making the trip back. Though the thought of his hired help keeping the loot was present in his mind, the concern for his companion's well-being was more important to him. Once he had sent off his mercenaries from outside of the Fort, Mars called for the great gates to open up once more, to finally get back inside and see how Cass was holding up.

 


End file.
